And it carved right through his heart what it meant when she didn’t say a thing.

But his Daisy knew how to do one thing very well.

She knew how to move on.

And Marcus was put on this earth to do one thing and do it well.

To help her to get to that, if the need arose, and then be at her side when she did it.

* * * *

Two and a half months after that morning…

The door opened and Ren, sitting in a chair in front of Marcus’s desk, turned his head to it.

He went still at what he saw.

Marcus looked that way.

And he went solid.

A second later, he forced himself to stand.

So did Ren.

“Hey, Ren,” Daisy said and she walked in.

“Daisy,” Ren replied. “You okay?”

Marcus was rounding his desk.

“Uh, yeah. Can I…sorry to interrupt. But can I have a second with my husband?” she asked, moving into the room.

“Of course,” Ren murmured.

Marcus vaguely felt his partner’s gaze, but only vaguely.

His focus was on his wife.

He had his hands spanning her waist, heard the door close after Ren, and instantly asked, “Which Rock Chick?”

“Pardon?”

He stared at her face and repeated, “Which Rock Chick?”

Her brows drew together, her head (and mess of hair) tipped to the side, and she asked, “What’re you talkin’ about, sugar?”

“You look…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you look.”

And he didn’t.

Even with all the shenanigans of the Rock Chicks, Daisy had never looked like this.

And those shenanigans had all ended, even if Daisy now spent her days being PA to Ally Zano in her private investigations business. A business that was situated right across the hall from Marcus and Ren’s so the men could (unobtrusively) keep an eye on their women.

“I don’t know how I look either.”

With the stunned expression etched in her face, he lost patience and growled, “What’s going on?”

“Marcus,” she said, but that was all she said.

“Daisy,” he clipped out.

She put her hands to his chest and looked into his eyes.

“I just got back from the doctor.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Penance.

Fuck.

His fingers gripped her tight as the entirety of his chest contracted to the point it felt like it was going to implode.

His voice was hoarse and rough and not his own when he asked, “Why were you at the doctor, darling?”

“I’m…”

She looked to his chin, his throat, his chest, and when she lifted her eyes to his, they were filled with tears.

Fuck!

“Pregnant,” she finished.

Marcus again went solid.

“I…she doesn’t…” She shook her head. “She doesn’t know how it happened. But when I skipped one month, then two, I took seven pregnancy tests at home. They were all positive. So I went to her. And she confirmed it.” She leaned into him. “Marcus, honey, I’m preg—”

She didn’t finish because his mouth crushed down on hers.

When he ended the kiss, he cupped her head and shoved it in his chest.

“I’m takin’ that as you bein’ happy,” she noted, her voice muffled against his shirt.

His voice was just gruff when he forced out, “Yes. I’m happy.”

His wife wound her arms around his middle.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered into his chest.

Marcus was breathing through his nose.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeated.

Marcus closed his eyes as the wonder in her voice started coating the region around his heart.

He felt her push her head back.

And he also felt her hand on his jaw.

Last, he felt her thumb trail through the line of wet that was on his cheek.

He opened his eyes and saw her gazing up at him, her blue eyes lit with happy.

“We’re pregnant, baby,” she whispered.

Then her body bucked and she let out a sob that ended in a peal of laughter that filled his office with bells.

Only then did Marcus smile.

* * * *

Six and a half months later…

Marcus walked into the room.

“Well?” Tex boomed.

He looked at the big man with his big beard and wild head of gray-blond hair in his plaid flannel shirt, and then his eyes swept through the room.

It was so full, some were coming up from sitting on the floor.

“God, tell us, brother,” Duke demanded, and Marcus locked eyes with the man with the gray braid, leather vest, black T-shirt, and red bandana wrapped around his head.

“Serious, dude, spill!” a man (loosely termed as thus) who called himself The Kevster shouted. He was standing but doing it shifting foot to foot.

“It’s a girl,” Marcus said. His eyes moved to one of the women in the room. “Her name is Annamae Shirleen.”

Delivering that, he watched as tears slid down Shirleen’s cheeks.

Marcus looked through the Rock Chicks, their men, and the rest of Daisy’s friends that were family and finished, “Both mother and daughter are perfect.”

“Holy crap,” Indy breathed then burst into tears and shoved her face in Lee’s chest.

“Oh my God,” Jet murmured then smiled a smile that made a very pretty woman stunning, turning to aim it to her husband, Eddie.